


The Tramp Stamp Incident

by sailormelanie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Almost Possessive Behavior, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Grand Prix Final, Right after the Barcelona banquet, Shenanigans, Stupid Joke turned Semi-serious one-shot, Tattoos, Yuuri feeling unnecessary amounts of guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormelanie/pseuds/sailormelanie
Summary: In which Victor wakes up after the Grand Prix Barcelona banquet with a surprising tattoo on his lower back, and Yuuri is torn over whether or not he wants Victor to keep it.





	The Tramp Stamp Incident

Pain.

Yuuri is in pain.

And he’s uncomfortably sweaty.

His head feels like it’s going to crack open and he’s sure if he sits up, it might actually explode and his brains will paint the very clean and very white bed sheets brown or gray or whatever color brains are supposed to be. He groans and turns on his other side only to find Victor similarly sweaty and hunched over a pillow, tangled in the blankets. 

It’s the morning after the Grand Prix Final banquet, and this year, Yuuri isn’t waking up with a horrible hangover alone in his hotel room. Instead he gets to wake up next to his lover.

His  _ lover _ \- the Living Legend, who’s going to be both his rival and his coach next year. 

He’d be elated were it not for the growing urge to puke.

“Yuuuriii,”  Victor whines, his eyes squeezed shut as he tugs on Yuuri’s arm with one hand and scratches his lower back with the other in an odd, monkey-like squirm. “There’s something funny on my back.”

Yuuri sighs, attempting to recall the night before and drawing a blank.

“If I made any weird jokes about you being old last night, I take it back, you’re not-”

“Hmm...feel...” 

Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and places it on the spot in question.  

And it’s true - the skin feels somewhat raised and uneven, which is odd, because usually Victor’s skin is impeccably smooth.   
  
Yuuri reaches towards the nightstand, thankful to find his glasses there. As he sets them on his face, he leans over to get a closer look at his very naked lover. His eyes scan Victor’s body and when they reach his lower back, a mortified yelp escapes his throat while his brain processes what he’s looking at.

“Is something there?!”

Victor looks intently at Yuuri, afraid and anxious. The fear in his eyes almost leaves Yuuri speechless. 

“Is it a mole? A PIMPLE?!” 

Yuuri sighs. Apparently Victor has no recollection of the evening either, and yet now they must both deal with the unwanted aftermath.

“No...it’s...a tattoo…”

“Oh!”

Victor puts his finger to his pursed lips and suddenly seems both relieved and thoughtful, as if it’s not his first time waking up with an unexpected tattoo the morning after a night out.

“Interesting. It doesn’t hurt or sting at all.”

Maybe Yuuri should feel relieved by that, but he isn’t. Instead his thoughts are racing through the archive of his brain to remember what the hell happened last night. Or at least they would, were it not for the ringing bells and dull ache his mind keeps running into as soon as he catches the glimmer of a memory.  

“What is it?”

“Uhm...what?”

Now’s not really the time to feign ignorance, but this is...

“The tattoo! What’d I get?”

….so very embarrassing.

“...my…signature... “

“Wow!” 

Though Victor is shocked, his sparkling eyes betray the wonder he feels as he takes a finger and traces the lines. The tattoo stretches right above his ass and includes both Yuuri’s English cursive and Japanese kanji, because apparently when he’s drunk, he’s nothing if not thorough in the total desecration of the Living Legend’s back.  

Good God.

It is real. And it is indeed his autograph. Meaning he, Yuuri Katsuki, signed the body of his lover, Victor Nikiforov, and now it’s permanently tattooed like a brand on the Living Legend’s lower back.

The hubris.

The horror.

And yet…

He can’t seem to shake the low purr of satisfaction in the depths of his consciousness that says,  _ He’s MINE. Why shouldn’t my name be there? _

Ugh, he’s disgusting.

And absurdly tacky.

This must be what Victor is thinking as he gets up and trots over to the full-length mirror hanging on the door of their room so he can assess the damage.

“I’ll...I’ll pay for the removal,” Yuuri says as he covers his head with the blanket in shame. “We should try to find a place...maybe get it rid of it as soon as possible? Is there a wait time on something like this or-”

“Why?” Victor says as he continues twisting his body so he can get a better look.

“Because...it’s probably my fault in the first place. I was probably the one who convinced you to get it, and even if I didn’t-”

“Why would I get it removed?”

Now it’s Yuuri’s turn to be dumbstruck. The little demon in his inner consciousness is fist pumping.

“You...you want to keep it?”

“Of course,” Victor says shrugging. He opens their bottle of sparkling water on the table and empties it into a glass. “Anyway it’s not as if it’s somewhere everyone will see all the time.”

He drinks half the glass, walks over to where Yuuri is still trying to make himself as small as possible, and tries to push the glass into Yuuri’s hands.

Yuuri takes it gingerly, hesitating to take a sip when he finally peeks out from beneath the sheets.

“But...you do ads for swimsuits and underwear sometimes…”

“And?”

Yuuri looks at Victor aghast, to which Victor just laughs.

“If you don’t like it, I could always say no to those shoots. Then it can remain our intimate, little secret,” the handsome Russian says with a flirtatious wink.

_ YES,  _ the little demon growls.

“NO!” Yuuri practically screams.

“Yuuuriii,” he sing-songs in that way that makes Yuuri want to kiss him and punch him at the same time. Noticing his lover’s discomfort, Victor quickly changes tactics.

“It isn’t an actual tattoo,” he says, leaning over and trying to gather the bundle of Yuuri into an embrace. “Maybe we had a personalized temporary one made somewhere? It doesn’t hurt and it’s not sensitive at all. It can’t be real.”

Yuuri’s not familiar with how tattoos are supposed to work, but given how Victor’s tone has changed from trivializing to comforting, it all sounds plausible. He starts to feel a semblance of relief. 

“It’ll wash off in the shower,” Victor says as he hops to his feet and into the bathroom. “I’m sure of it!”

It doesn’t wash off.

In fact, no amount of scrubbing either Victor or Yuuri does seems to make the tattoo even peel. 

“Wow,” Victor says again, twisting his body to inspect the not-at-all faded script on his back in the bathroom mirror. “Amazing.”

Whereas Victor is amazed, Yuuri is despondent. 

“Maybe...pen? Permanent marker?”

Yuuri is attempting to roll away his misery on the bed, but is instead ruining the sheets.

They’re getting nowhere and Yuuri needs caffeine stat. 

“Can we…” he starts, finally forcing himself to sit up. “Get dressed, get coffee, and then figure this out?” 

Victor simply grins, still not as upset as Yuuri thinks he should be. There’s no secret, bubbling anger beneath the veneer of a cheerful smile. Just a man who’s humoring his very hungover and very anxious student.

So Yuuri grabs an americano and Victor gets a cappuccino at the hotel cafe downstairs. On their way back up, Yuuri decides he’ll call the person most likely to have records of what happened the night before. As soon as the hotel room door closes behind them, he puts the call on speaker.

“Yuuri!” Phichit practically shouts, causing Yuuri’s migraine to spike.

“Hi Phich,” he moans. “So-”

“You went pretty crazy last night! How did it go with the tattoo?”

Oh no. Yuuri looks frantically at Victor who’s sitting on the bed, still smiling and disturbingly unconcerned while he sips his cappuccino.

“Uhm. I’m...I don’t know? Could you fill in some of the details on what happened? We don’t really remember. What exactly did we say?”

Phichit’s bright laughter in response doesn’t comfort him at all.

“Phichiit!!” Yuuri yells, exasperated.

“Sorry, sorry! I can send you some of the pics and videos from last night later. Ciao Ciao convinced me not to post, but honestly it was a riot. You both stripped this time, though not at the banquet - in my hotel room,” Phichit babbles happily, as if he were regaling Yuuri with a story about his hamsters and not about his best friend’s night of debauchery. “And then Victor insisted that because you won a silver, you were a celebrity and he wanted your autograph. You lovingly obliged, and were so happy to see your name above his butt that you started to cry and said you wished it could be there forever. Then Victor said he could get it tattooed on, you agreed, and before either Ciao Ciao or I could stop you guys, you were in an elevator and out of the hotel.”

Yuuri grits his teeth as he struggles to remember the details Phichit’s not filling in. Instead he just draws more frustrating blanks.

“Ok,” he sighs, pulling at straws. “This might sound like a weird question, but what did I use to sign his back?”

“Hmm...just a hotel pen, I think. You can check. I think I have a video of it.”

Yuuri grimaces while Victor perks up at the thought.

“Got it...thanks. I gotta go.”

“Ok! Talk to you later! I’ll send the pics and videos now!”

After hanging up, Yuuri pulls up their texts and sees the videos start to load. He taps the first and sees the evidence right away. Him, red-faced and practically drooling over his lover’s ass as he signs his name with a hotel pen. He squints, then realizes with despair...

“This...doesn’t look like it at all.”

Victor takes the phone from his hands and tilts his head.

“True. The lines are much thinner and uneven in the video.”

His mind races through the probabilities. If the signature in the videos doesn’t look like what’s on Victor’s back now, then it must mean…

They had it done over.

Professionally.

Fuck.

Victor comments on Yuuri’s extended groan before he realizes it himself.

“All right, all right,” he says, cooly waving a hand in Yuuri’s direction to get him to stop. “I’ll call Chris. Looks like I called him a couple times last night and he picked up at least once. Maybe he can clear it up.”

Yuuri just nods. The caffeine is kicking in, helping the pounding in his head to subside, but doing nothing for the guilt.

His life this past year has been unreal enough. His drunk self just  _ had _ to take it to a whole other level. He wishes he could strangle his drunk self.

The little demon wishes it could high-five him.

In any case, here they are, with Victor dialing Chris on speaker phone.

“Hello, Victor,” Chris answers, a note of amusement already evident in his voice. “How’s the tattoo?”

That’s it. It’s over. Victor should just dump him now and get it over with.

“Funny you asked!” Victor laughs, without even a hint of sarcasm. “We’re not even sure if it’s a tattoo! What did I call you about last night?”

Yuuri can practically hear the delight in Chris’s voice as he explains, “It sounded like Yuuri autographed your body and you decided to get it tramp stamped above your ass. You asked me for a tattoo parlor recommendation and I told you to ask the hotel concierge, and then-”

“Why didn’t you stop us?!” Yuuri interrupts, wishing he could blame the debacle on Chris’s inaction, but knowing Chris wouldn’t care regardless.

“Because it was hilarious, scandalous and romantic. You only live once, mon cher.”

Of course, the Swiss would be no help. Yuuri should have known better. 

He gets Victor to hang up and drags him down to the hotel reception to go to the concierge desk where a young woman is sitting, bored. He half-lies, telling her that they were a bit too drunk last night, went to a tattoo parlor, forgot a jacket, and now don’t know where the parlor is. Could she please tell them which tattoo parlor was probably recommended?

Yuuri swears he sees the ghost of a smirk on her face as she pulls out a card from a drawer and hands it to him. 

Everyone is judging him.

Rightly so, but still.

He mutters a thank you, looks up the address on his phone and sighs for the umpteenth time that day. The place is nowhere near the hotel. It’s in the Gothic quarter, in a tiny alley that he wonders if they really managed to locate when they were wasted.

“Oh good,” Victor pipes in. “We can see the Catedral again. When we were there the other day, I was so focused on you I hardly saw it! Let’s cab over!”

Though it’d only be a 20-minute ride and they still have rides on the train pass they bought the other day, Yuuri nods in agreement.

It’s probably better if they solve this sooner rather than later.

He doesn’t think he can live with the shame and embarrassment for much longer. 

They end up driving close enough to the coast that Yuuri can catch glimpses of the sea at times. He wishes he could appreciate it more. They’d planned an extra day in Barcelona just to enjoy the city, and now they're wasting most of it. He’s ruined the day just as he’s ruined his lover’s back. 

And his own dignity.

They get out of the cab at the square in front of the Cathedral, and while Victor pays the driver, Yuuri takes out his phone and tries to orient himself. It’s in a small side street off of a series of other side streets, and of course his GPS is choosing now to go crazy. 

Everything’s a nightmare and it’s all his own making.

“We didn’t get a picture here before!” Victor says, trying to get Yuuri to put his phone down and look up at the Cathedral. “Let’s ask someone!”

“We should take care of...of whatever it is first. We can do everything else later.”

He takes Victor’s hand in his and tries to pull him in what he  _ hopes _ is the right direction, when suddenly Victor won’t budge.

Finally, something like anger seems to be brewing behind his beautiful, blue eyes. He’s taken out the terrible press smile he’s reserved for when interviewers ask him a rude question. It sends an uncomfortable shiver up Yuuri’s spine.

“If it’s not real, then it’ll go away on its own,” he says slowly. “If it’s real, I don’t want to get it removed! Either way, there’s no reason to be so upset and to spend our last day in Barcelona going down a rabbit hole!”

“But...don’t you find it…kind of crude?” Yuuri asks quietly. 

“Yuuri!” he frowns, taking a stand and pulling his hand out of Yuuri’s. “I love having a tramp stamp of your name above my ass!”

“Can we not call it a tramp stamp?” Yuuri says, wincing and blushing all at once. “Also, I think that term might be offensive.”

“But I’m proud of my tramp stamp!”

Just the sound of the phrase makes Yuuri wince again.

Some guy at the plaza is shoving a selfie stick in Yuuri’s face and attempting to sell it, which reminds him that they’re in public and his very recognizable coach has just announced that he’s proud of his tramp stamp. 

Usually Victor is more careful than this when it comes to his public image, though Yuuri supposes ever since his declaration of love at that press conference back in September, they’ve both been getting into the habit of blurring the lines between their personal and public lives.

They’ve made undeniable waves in each other’s lives. Yuuri just wishes his waves for Victor didn’t involve impossible, drunken requests he can’t even remember.

It’s been like this from the start.

Yuuri is this messy, confused ball of uncertainty and Victor just has to smile and roll with whatever punches reveal themselves along the way.

“Why?” he finally asks. He knows that Victor hasn’t cared about the tattoo from the start. Not really. But why on earth would he want to keep it anyway?

Victor sighs, then looks at Yuuri intently, as if he’s puzzling out how to get Yuuri to understand.

“It’s like another reminder that I’m yours,” he says finally, taking Yuuri’s hand into his once more. “I can’t be with you at every competition if I’m going to be competing too. This is something I get to carry with me everywhere that’s just for me. It’s  _ not _ silly or crude or tacky. You gave it to me, and if it’s supposed to be permanent, I want it to stay this way. Just like the ring.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

He’s such an idiot.

So so so so stupid.

Really the stupidest.

But now he understands. Now he knows what he’s supposed to do.

There’s really only one solution.

So he tightens his grip on Victor’s hand and pulls him in what he thinks...no...he’s sure it’s the right direction. They exit the plaza down an alley teeming with tourists admiring the Christmas decorations and shop displays. He takes a sudden sharp turn down a quieter alley, then another, then another, and all the while he can feel Victor’s quiet curiosity like electricity at his fingertips. 

He’s letting him handle this his own way now.

He trusts him so completely.

At the last turn, down an extremely narrow alley where only a handful of men seem to be loitering about and smoking, Yuuri sees the tell-tale sign of a colorful needle hanging in front of a shop without windows.

He barges through the front, his ears ringing. Or maybe it’s just the sound of the bell from the door announcing their entrance. It’s dark and crammed with random pieces of furniture and sculptures that don’t look like anything. The walls are covered in photos and posters of tattoo designs, maybe some done in the shop itself, whereas others look more like suggestions from magazines. Yuuri goes straight to the man hunched over the front register, flipping through a book.

“Do you have any open appointments?” he demands, his nerves uneven and his thoughts praying that this man understands English.

The man shrugs, not looking up from the magazine. “Sí. Now is fine.”

“Do you guys have a marker or something...something you can use to tattoo over, or…?”

The man still doesn’t look up, but pulls out a thick marker and hands it to Yuuri. 

“Thanks. Uhm...where can we...?”

“There is fine,” he says, pointing at a door behind him.

  
Yuuri doesn’t give himself time to assess the situation. He knows if he does, he’ll stop. He hurries them both into the room and slams the door shut behind him.

To his relief, it looks clean. Hygienic. Nothing like the messy store front. Lots of lights, the tools, a set of drawers, and what looks like a proper chair.

Yuuri hands Victor the marker and starts to strip, removing his coat and belt. He wriggles his pants down and pulls up his sweater just a bit, revealing a thin, but almost revealing strip of skin just above his ass.

“Sign,” he says, bent over slightly, leaving Victor blushing and speechless with marker in hand.

“Uhm...” Yuuri says, reeling from his own impulsiveness. He stands up straight again and turns to face Victor directly. “If that’s ok?”

Victor is still silent. His eyes are wide and sparkling, almost like that night in front of the Cathedral when Yuuri gave him the ring.

“I...I didn’t like the tattoo because I thought it seemed really weird and possessive,” Yuuri explains, the words tripping over his tongue. “But...you’re mine...and I’m yours. This way it’s even. A permanent reminder for both of us.”

Yes. Because he has to keep reminding himself over and over that this goes both ways. He’s  _ not _ just some huge inconvenience Victor puts up with. 

They are partners.

Yuuri knows Victor loves him _. _

But he still needs to learn how to believe it _. _

So now all they can do is keep meeting each other halfway, and if that means having each other’s names permanently tattooed above their asses, then so be it.

As the wheels continue turning in Yuuri’s mind, Victor starts to laugh. In fact, he’s keeled over, giggles overtaking his entire body as he holds his stomach to try to stop himself.

“Yuuri!” he exclaims in utter delight, wiping a tear from his eye as he tries to stand up straight. “You keep surprising me! I love it!”

He wraps his arms around Yuuri’s neck and kisses him on the cheek, smiling so hard Yuuri can feel it glowing as he presses more and more playful kisses onto his face.

This.

_ This. _

This made it all worth it.

Just the sound of Victor's melodic laughter and warm kisses.

He's so lucky he can't even comprehend it.

But before Yuuri can kiss back, a woman with arms covered in tattoos walks into the room. She seems unphased by the fact that Yuuri’s pants are halfway down and that Victor is all over him. Instead, her surprise seems to come from elsewhere...

“Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“Ah...so soon?” Yuuri says, desperately trying to pull his pants up and retain some form of respectability.

“Yeah. I was also here last night,” she says with perfect nonchalance. She turns to Victor, a little expectant. “Did you already decide to keep it?”

Victor blinks.

“Keep it?”

Yuuri gasps.

“It’s...it’s not a real tattoo?!”

“Of course not. You guys were sauced,” she says, bristling a little as she digs through the set of drawers next to the chair. “We don’t let wasted clients make those kinds of decisions. It’s not good business. But we did offer you guys an alternative.”

She pulls out a pamphlet. Yuuri takes it from her hands and reads the title aloud, “Semi-permanent Tattoos?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, eyeing the two of them like she’s figured out that they don’t remember a thing from last night. “We specialize in doing bespoke ones on the fly. They’re for people who are on the fence about getting a tattoo, or people who just want one for a costume or something. They won’t just wash off in the shower, but fade away eventually. Give it a few weeks and it’ll be gone.”

They both stare are her, silent and stunned.

And then they both break into a bout of giggles.

The woman sighs again, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket as she heads out the door.

“Decide what you want to do by the time I get back,” she says, just loud enough so that they can hear it over the sounds of their own laughter. When she leaves, they both gulp for air, steadying each other and keeping close.

As they finally calm down, Yuuri looks over at the chair, half-jokingly, half-seriously wondering, “Do you still want to get something?”

“Yes,” Victor says without hesitation. “But maybe getting our names is a little on the nose.”

“I knew it!” Yuuri teases, playfully pinching Victor’s sides. “I knew you thought it was tacky!”

“Not tacky!” he answers defensively. “But now that we get to make a sober choice, we probably shouldn’t get tattoos right now...not during the season anyway. Maybe after Worlds? Then we have time to come up with some better ideas.”

Yuuri balks a little, surprised.

“Does it hurt that bad?”

“Well…” Victor says, tilting his head as if he is trying to recall something. “You’re just not supposed to exercise too much after you get one. It can take a few weeks before the skin fully heals.”

Yuuri feels just a wee bit stupider. He’d been thoroughly convinced at one point the tattoo was real, but if you’re not even supposed to exercise…

“...how do you know all this stuff about tattoos anyway?”

Victor smiles brightly, but his eyes have already shifted the tone of the conversation with the promise of a dare.

“Win gold at Nationals in Japan and I’ll tell you what I got and where I got it.”

The fanboy in Yuuri screams and hyperventilates with exaltation. Not once in all of his fan magazines and recordings of interviews has Yuuri ever heard about Victor getting a tattoo, and then getting it removed. It’s the inside scoop of the century.

The other part of Yuuri, the part that Victor sees right now, smirks. He pulls Victor in by the collar of his coat and whispers, “If I win gold at Nationals,  _ I’ll _ tell you where I want your new tattoo to be and what you’re going to get.”

He basks in the shiver he can sense going up Victor’s spine as he answers back, practically breathless, “Looking forward to it.”

Yes.

Yuuri is slowly learning how to believe. 

He doesn’t know how often Victor will have to remind him before it feels like reality.

He doesn’t know how often he’ll have to repeat it to himself until it rings true.

But he’s learning.

And lessons like these are ones he’ll never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated :)
> 
> *Insert classic fanfic writer apology about not writing/posting anything in a while after having promised to post*
> 
> Sorry. Writing too many things at the moment, and of course THIS is what my brain manages to focus on instead of any of my long fics.
> 
> This is yet another one of my stupid gag ideas that turned into a much longer, semi-serious piece about Yuuri dealing with his own self-doubt. I'm also not keen on the label "tramp stamp," but the innuendo and the implications were just too funny not to use it.
> 
> Side note, I’ve heard of semi-permanent tattoos, but I’m actually not sure what would happen to one if you tried to wash it off intensely the day after. I believe regular bathing doesn’t do much, but intense scrubbing? 
> 
> Oh well. The power of imagination!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://sailormelanie.tumblr.com/).


End file.
